


For You, For Me

by Girlblunder



Category: Wonder Woman (Movies - Jenkins)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Romance, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 02:16:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29834508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Girlblunder/pseuds/Girlblunder
Summary: Barbara doesn't believe in magic and fairy tales, but when she meets Diana Prince, she wishes she did.Or, sometimes a citrine is just a citrine (what would have happened in Wonder Woman 1984 if this were the case). Also, Barbara is an insecure gay disaster around Diana.
Relationships: Diana (Wonder Woman)/Barbara Minerva
Comments: 15
Kudos: 119





	For You, For Me

**Author's Note:**

> Oh god, this is just _awful_. I've written fluff, of all things. It's disgusting, but it wouldn't leave me alone.
> 
> I hate myself for just about all of it, but especially for the last line. Ugh.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it (I guess). Not enough angst.

* * *

When Barbara Ann Minerva is a little girl, she doesn’t dream of princes and castles. Her parents are studious, serious people who don’t fill her head with such nonsense. Having been born in a time of great strife, it isn’t until she’s ten that she’s given a book on fairy tales from an aunt she barely recognizes.

Fairy tales are truly novel ideas and, despite her father’s disapproval, Barbara finds herself sneaking peeks at the book at night under her blankets with the help of a flashlight. The magical stories don’t surpass all her other interests—she’s still utterly fascinated by all the mysteries to be uncovered in the very earth itself—but she can’t deny that they become one of her private obsessions.

By fifteen, Barbara begs to be allowed to attend public school. Her parents have given her so much knowledge, but she finds herself curious about other teenagers. Her parents mutter and click their tongues and have great debates between themselves before deciding that perhaps she does require more exposure to people her age.

“Barbara,” her father warns with a great furrow in his brow, “don’t let flights of fancy distract you from your bright future.”

She’s years beyond what they teach in school, but Barbara doesn’t care about that anyway. The principal is hesitant to allow her in, but she pleads in her own very awkward way and the stern, older man finally softens. A year is what she’s given.

Barbara is delighted.

It doesn’t take her long to understand just how very different she is from her peers. Her glasses are too thick, her skirts too long, and no matter how much she tries, the only times she’s noticed are when she (usually accidentally) makes people laugh.

When report cards come and she easily aces everything, her English teacher coaxes her into becoming a tutor. She agrees because, maybe, this is a way she can connect with others.

To an extent, it works. Two of the people she tutors become her friends despite her awkwardness. Amanda Jones, one of the prettiest girls in school, and Josh Milner, a second-string point guard for the basketball team, are grateful for her intellect. They don’t laugh at her as much as the others, and when they do, Barbara feels like it’s not in a mean way.

Amanda helps her with her clothes (she still doesn’t understand the appeal of poodle skirts) and hair, and Barbara feels a bit like Cinderella. Josh is always pleasant and gentlemanly, and looks out for both her and Amanda.

She loves spending time with them—until she finds Josh and Amanda kissing behind the school gym one school dance when they’ve all come together as friends.

At sixteen, she begins her first year of college and comes to understand that had been her first heartbreak. By eighteen, she finally comprehends that she’d been in love with Amanda, and had a crush on Josh. She dates a few boys (because girls are impossible) but knows that, like everything else in her life, it’s not quite right.

Eventually she stops pretending and gives up on dating. She’s not Cinderella, and a prince isn’t her destiny. It’s… a lonelier realization than she thought it would be, and she tries her best to make friends without great results as time passes. She devotes herself all over again to her studies, earning her PhD in three subjects just because she loves them. Her career is a steady, if slow rise after that, and years later she lands her dream job at the Smithsonian.

It isn’t until she clumsily spills the contents of her briefcase and is greeted with a husky, “Good Morning,” that Barbara once again wishes she _were_ some magical princess.

“Hi. Thank you,” she manages as she tries not to stare at the gorgeous woman suddenly crouched opposite her.

“Diana Prince, cultural anthropology and archaeology,” Diana says as she holds out her hand. Some sorcery keeps the dark silky strands spilling down her shoulders perfectly in place, her warm, rich brown eyes shimmering with kindness.

Barbara’s mind stumbles over the name and she finds herself talking a mile a minute. “Barbara Minerva. Geology, gemology, lithology, and part-time cryptozoologist.”

“Oh, wow,” Diana says with a quick smile that makes Barbara’s heart race. She’s glad when Diana looks down because she knows she’s blushing.

“I kept busy in college,” Barbara blurts with a nervous scoff as she realizes that she’s said too much.

The next few moments are a blur in which Barbara mentally screeches at herself as words tumble out of her mouth. Of course, even though Diana had been kind enough to help with the scattered paperwork, she rejects the lunch invitation.

Barbara isn’t surprised when Carol, the woman who’d hired her, doesn’t remember who she is. Barbara agrees to assist the FBI without hesitation, mostly for her own curiosity, but maybe the tiniest bit because she registers Diana’s interest in the subject.

She shouldn’t be surprised when Diana wanders over as she’s unpacking the artifacts sent by the FBI, but she is. As Diana speaks and easily translates the Latin, Barbara wonders how it’s possible for someone so obviously kind and beautiful to also be so intelligent and clever. She unconsciously holds her breath as Diana pensively stares down at the citrine object.

The look on her face is… Barbara forces herself to examine the other artifacts, feeling as if she’s been privy to something she shouldn’t have been. She’s overreacting, really. So what if Diana is gorgeous and smart and funny and is the first person in what feels like weeks that’s remembered her name?

Diana says her goodbyes and Barbara feels a great, familiar pain rise in her chest. “Okay. Well, thanks for… talking to me.” She chuckles and keeps her gaze averted because _oh god, is she going to cry in public?_ God, why had she said that? She shifts away again, not wanting to look at Diana and wishing she were anywhere else.

When Diana invites her out to an early dinner, Barbara is ecstatic, even though she knows that Diana is kind and probably taking pity on her the same way Amanda had back in school. She can’t help herself. Barbara isn’t sure if it’s the entrancing eyes that seem to truly _see_ her, the full lips that stretch into captivating smiles, or the low, husky voice, but Barbara is too smitten to say no.

***

The dinner goes better than she expects, but she’s quickly become addicted to making Diana laugh. She adores the way Diana tosses her head back when mirth catches her by surprise, dark hair flying as the elegant lines of her neck are revealed to Barbara’s too-eager eyes.

She wonders how it is that Diana can seem so comfortable everywhere, and wishes she had an ounce of that confidence. Her own amusement is held in, not wanting her voice to become too loud or to disturb anyone nearby.

When Diana speaks of being in love, Barbara wants to know everything but asks only a little. The look from earlier when Diana held the citrine is back, and Barbara’s heart aches for Diana’s loss. She doesn’t want Diana to dwell on it, not when it’s still so obviously painful, so when Diana returns the question she makes light of her own previous heartaches just to see her smile again.

The dinner ends sooner than Barbara likes, and she thinks that if she could have wished for anything, it would have been for it to last forever.

Diana gives her arm a squeeze as they part for the evening, and Barbara sighs and tries not to watch her go. She stops at a place Leon likes on her way back to the Smithsonian, knowing there’s no point going back to her apartment. The dinner with Diana has left her restless, wanting things she knows are impossible.

Leon is as sweet as always when he accepts the plate, and Barbara is glad that she can do something for him. He’d told her once he knows what it’s like not to be seen. She would never think to compare her life to his, not when she knows she has so much to be grateful for, but she does feel a sense of camaraderie with him.

She nearly trips courtesy of her new heels, and she silently laughs at herself until a drunken man on a bench leers at her and stands. She walks faster but then suddenly he’s too close. They struggle over her bag and she knows she shouts _no_ , but then he shoves her and she closes her eyes as she waits to hit the ground.

Only, her momentum is stopped by something soft and warm that smells like sandalwood and jasmine. She opens her eyes and forgets everything, because Diana Prince is holding her and glaring off somewhere she can’t see. Diana’s glare becomes concern as she helps Barbara regain her balance, and then she shrugs and says something about forgetting her keys.

Barbara is still in a daze when she finally makes it to the Smithsonian, going over the awkward post-save conversation and still not understanding how, or why, any of it had happened. She curses herself for remembering how those long, surprisingly strong arms had felt curled protectively around her, and the precise scent that had wafted from Diana’s stylish coat.

She groans at herself and decides to get back to work. The last thing she needs is another in the long line of silent heartaches, and yet she finds herself hoping that Diana will talk to her again.

***

Diana does talk to her again, but there are no more invitations to lunch, dinner, or even for a quick coffee. Barbara smiles and hides her disappointment, because at least Diana continues to acknowledge that she exists.

As the days pass and her loneliness grows yet again, Barbara is surprised when Carol comes and introduces her to Max Lord for a tour. He laughs at her jokes and makes her laugh at his own, and Barbara feels just the tiniest bit less lonely.

She isn’t sure how long he’s hung around her part of the lab, but then suddenly Diana is standing opposite them both and Barbara pretends like she isn’t suddenly worried that Max’s interest will suddenly drift to Diana.

Diana had said she doesn’t get out, and doesn’t seem interested in dating, but Max Lord is rich, on TV, and quite charismatic in his own right.

She swallows when Max gets closer to Diana and gives her a card, but Diana (thankfully) doesn’t seem interested.

It isn’t until Max leaves that Barbara notices the faint displeasure on Diana’s face. It makes her vaguely uncomfortable, as if Diana doesn’t approve of Max’s interest in Barbara. Barbara decides then, even though she originally had no intention of going, that she’ll attend the Members’ Gala. Maybe Max hadn’t meant what he’d said about seeing her there, but Barbara is tired of being lonely. Diana can take her disapproval and just… shove it.

“What? I like him,” Barbara says as she ignores Diana’s forced smile and tries to convince herself she means what she says.

Later, as she’s buying a new dress and a pair of outrageous heels she knows she’ll regret later, she can’t help but hope that maybe Diana will go to the party, just this once.

***

When she arrives at the Members’ Gala, she feels like a bad, B movie version of Cinderella. She’s pulled out all the stops—even going so far as to put on the contact lenses she’s all but forgotten—with her hair and makeup and feels like she’s in danger of losing her shoes at any moment.

To her surprise, people notice her. She smiles uncomfortably and isn’t sure what to do with all the sudden attention. She decides to ignore what she can and concentrates on putting one foot in front of the other to find a nice, safe spot on one of the higher floors to sit and observe others.

Max finds her on her way up, open and flirting and making her feel just a little less awkward. She nervously agrees to talk to him in her office, gulping down an entire glass of champagne along the way for courage. Making out with him is… fine. He’s enthusiastic, at least, which is a lot more than she could say for the last guy she’d kissed.

Just as things are beginning to get a little too uncomfortable (when did Max get her pushed up against her desk?) there’s a firm knock at the door.

“Um,” is all she can think to say before the door swings open.

Max steps away from her and smooths a hand over his hair as Diana’s head pokes into the room.

“There you are,” Diana says with a tight smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. Her gaze travels down Barbara’s dress, then shifts to a grinning Maxwell.

Barbara has no doubt that Diana can guess exactly what she and Max had been doing. Her stomach twists uncomfortably.

“Ah, and here I thought you said you didn’t attend such things.” Max tugs on the lapels of his suit, grin still in place.

Diana moves all the way into the room, arms crossed over her chest as she stops opposite of Barbara. She’s giving Max a hard look. “Yes, well, some exceptions need to be made upon occasion.”

Barbara is too distracted by how beautiful Diana looks in her belted white dress to comment. How high does that slit in her dress _go_? She’s suddenly envious of everyone that got to see her arrival, those long legs peeking out of white fabric as she climbed the stairs—

“Well, I suppose I should be getting back to the party,” Max’s voice cuts in on her fantasy. He takes a step forward, then looks back at her. “Will you be joining me?”

“Oh, um,” Barbara’s eyes trail to Diana, who looks less than pleased at the prospect. Barbara licks her lips and addresses Max again. “Maybe in a bit.”

Diana has the courtesy to wait until the door closes behind him to speak. “I don’t like him. You can do better.”

Barbara frowns, and then scoffs. “You don’t even know him.” She crosses her arms, subconsciously mirroring Diana’s defensive posture.

“You don’t, either. You met him today!”

Words bubble up in Barbara’s throat, and she knows she’s about to say a bunch of things she doesn’t want to but will be unable to stop herself. “So what? Why do you care? It’s not like we’re even friends or anything, and you know what? I can’t do better! He’s rich and funny and he actually remembers my name, which is already about a hundred times better than the last person I dated!”

Diana is frowning deeply by the time she finishes. She drops her arms and shuffles a little closer. “What do you mean we’re not friends?” She pauses and shuffles even closer. “And you deserve better than the bare minimum from someone; you deserve someone who will treasure you.”

Barbara ducks her head and lets out a heavy breath, unable to stand the soft intensity of Diana’s eyes. “We’re not friends, Diana. You took pity on me once, and are kind enough to say hi to me around the office. God and,” she laughs hollowly and curls her arms around herself. “Treasure _me_? Most people forget me as soon as they meet me.”

“I wasn’t...” Diana’s eyebrows lower, a furrow appearing between her eyes. “I wasn’t taking pity on you, Barbara.”

“Okay, yeah.” Barbara says with a sarcastic nod as she scrubs her face, not surprised when her hand comes away wet. Her stupid mascara is running. She hates that she loves the measured way Diana speaks, as if each word must be carefully thought out before being voiced. Her accent and husky voice make even the most mundane thing seem intriguing, and it’s almost unbearable to hear Diana speak to her in a more personal way.

A tan thigh enters her vision before white cloth settles over it again. Barbara holds her breath but doesn’t look up, even as Diana’s warm hands find her wrists. “I wasn’t lying when I told you I don’t get out much, Barbara. I don’t spend time with people outside of work. I don’t get to know them, and I don’t want to get close. I don’t,” her voice falters and her hands settle over Barbara’s, “I don’t ask women out to dinner, especially not when I find them attractive. I don’t lose control of my strength because I see someone trying to hurt them, and have to stop myself from holding them close because I don’t want to let them go.”

It feels like Barbara can’t breathe. As she finally raises her eyes, she’s startled to see Diana looking down at the floor, tears slowly trickling down her cheeks.

“I don’t laugh like I used to, or feel as brave as I did when I was a child and everything was simply a challenge to be met.” She falls quiet, and then finally brings her eyes up to connect with Barbara’s. “I noticed you the first time you came in for an interview. You’re always kind, or making someone laugh. I asked you to dinner because I wanted to accept your invitation to lunch, but was too scared to. I don’t get close to people, Barbara, especially when I want to. Do you understand?”

“I,” Barbara says as she frowns. “No.”

The small furrow reappears between Diana’s eyebrows.

Barbara sighs and tilts her head, studying Diana’s face. “I know, more than many, how much it can suck to get close to other people. It can hurt so much but, I don’t know. I can’t seem to stop myself from trying. I feel like a little good and happiness goes a long way, you know? Maybe it’s stupid, but I prefer to think of it as hopeful.” She swallows and lets her attention fall down to their hands. Her courage only extends so far. “So, if you mean it, I’d like to be your friend.”

For several long moments, the only sound in her office is their breathing.

Diana’s right hand releases her left, then rises to cup her jaw. “Friend?” Diana asks in a hushed voice.

Barbara gently clears her throat and forces herself to look back up. “Yeah.”

Diana’s soft eyes search Barbara’s for a moment, then the corners of her mouth tilt up. “I’d like that.”

Barbara pretends like she isn’t wishing that Diana would angle her head down just a little to bring their lips together. Friends is a safer option for the both of them. There’s no way Barbara could keep Diana’s interest as anything more, regardless of what Diana might have insinuated. Barbara had probably misunderstood that, anyway.

***

Friendship with Diana is both drastically different and hardly different at all. Diana still doesn’t invite her out much (and she’s much too anxious to ask Diana again) but Diana makes a point to spend more time with Barbara at work.

Barbara finds it fascinating how people gravitate to Diana for even momentary recognition, and how polite Diana is when she deflects their interest. A curious thing happens after a few weeks; people start noticing Barbara, too, and go out of their way to acknowledge her.

She’s certain the interest is purely to ascertain how someone as boring and average as she is has managed to garner Diana’s friendship, but it’s nice in its own way. It makes her feel a little less lonely, and Barbara has to wonder how she felt desperate enough to kiss Maxwell Lord the same evening she met him.

His interest has seemed to wane, but Barbara doesn’t mind that either. Her thoughts are full of warm smiles and the smell of sandalwood and jasmine. They’d scheduled a lunch but Diana had cancelled thirty minutes before, and Barbara is doing her best to pretend like she’s not completely disappointed.

Then Jake and Kelly invite her to a group lunch to discuss some new acquisitions, and Barbara accepts without thinking too much about it. She’s quiet as the group claims a couple of tables that are pushed together at the Mexican restaurant down the street, and she finds she doesn’t have to try hard to be included. They talk about work for the first fifteen minutes, and then Barbara is pleased to discover at least half the group shares her fascination with cryptids.

Of late, they all have a shared interest in some golden-adorned being that’s been running around saving the people of DC. Still relatively new to town, Barbara absorbs the information with wide eyes and asks lots of questions. Rather than ridiculing her, her colleagues eagerly share what they’ve heard.

For the first time in a long time, Barbara Ann Minerva feels like she belongs.

She still misses Diana.

She orders dessert to go and leaves it on Diana’s desk, hoping that the treat will make up for whatever last minute business that’s disrupted Diana’s schedule.

Similar incidents happen several times over the course of the next few weeks, and Barbara worries that maybe Diana is growing tired of her company. It stings a little less now that more people at the Smithsonian have welcomed her as part of the team.

But it still stings.

They still meet and talk and discuss things involving work, but anything too personal seems out of place in the moments they do share.

Barbara finds Diana’s address in the phone book and gathers her courage to approach Diana away from work hours, hoping to clear the air. Diana doesn’t answer her knock. After twenty minutes, Barbara thinks that she’s just had unlucky timing. She leaves and gathers her courage for another night, only to again find Diana away.

It becomes clear to Barbara that the little she knows of Diana is truly too little. If Diana doesn’t socialize or get out much, how is it she never seems to be home?

Barbara experiences a final sense of defeat, and reasons to stay within the very clear parameters Diana has defined for their friendship.

***

“What’s wrong?”

“Hm?” Barbara blinks and looks up from her gyro, which she’s only managed a few bites of.

That furrow that makes Diana seem more serious than usual has appeared between her eyebrows. Barbara wishes she could smooth it away with her fingertips.

“You’re hardly touching your food,” Diana says with a glance to her plate. “Is it okay?”

Barbara fixes a smile to her face. “It’s good. I’m just not very hungry.” Diana had brought them to the small, cozy place and had ordered in fluent Greek, once again alerting Barbara to how restricted her knowledge of Diana’s life is. _Languages are a hobby_ seems an understatement for how many Diana apparently knows.

She shouldn’t be sulking, not when she can’t remember the last time Diana has kept to one of their lunch dates. Appointments. If they had been dates, even Barbara would have taken the hint after the third cancellation.

“I appreciate your patience with me.”

Barbara takes a sip from her water. She’d forgotten what it’s like, sitting across from Diana as the sole focus of her quiet intensity. She pushes up her glasses and avoids meeting Diana’s gaze. “About that,” she says once she’s gathered her courage, “maybe it’s best we stop making plans for lunch.”

“I see.”

The easy acceptance makes a weight settle in Barbara’s stomach, heavy and sinking just like her vague hopes are.

Diana’s fingers brush the back of her right hand and settle lightly against her wrist. “I wanted very much to be here. I wasn’t expecting to become so busy. It wasn’t fair to you, but I just wanted to see you.”

Barbara wonders how even Diana’s rejection makes something in her chest flutter; Diana’s gentle, accented delivery and the lingering contact on Barbara’s wrist distract from the actual message. “It’s okay,” Barbara lies. “Don’t feel like you have to keep trying so hard. I know we’re friends, Diana.”

She risks a glance at Diana. The furrow has softened only a little. She gently clears her throat and pushes her glasses up again, freeing herself from Diana’s warm touch.

To her dismay, Diana’s hand waits for hers to resettle. Rather than her wrist, however, Barbara finds the back of her hand being cupped. “I treasure our time together, Barbara.”

Barbara licks her lips and decides the word choice is entirely coincidental. “Okay.”

“I should also thank you for the things you leave at my desk. Some days I’m terrible about remembering to eat, especially when I’m busy. I’d like to return the favor.”

Again feeling warm, Barbara releases a nervous laugh and pushes some hair behind her ear with her left hand. She lacks the will to move her right one away from Diana twice. “Well, we’re already having lunch.”

“Let me cook for you tonight at my apartment.” Diana smiles and her thumb lightly brushes over Barbara’s fingers.

Barbara finds herself incapable of speech. It’s a Friday, and Barbara traditionally thinks of Friday nights as date nights. Not that she dates, but isn’t that what people do? Well, it’s probably just the only time someone as busy as Diana is free. “Um, okay. If you’re sure.”

Diana chuckles, the corner of her eyes crinkling attractively. “Absolutely. I’ll write down the address for you later. Is seven okay?”

“Yeah.” Barbara has to stifle the urge to babble, not wanting to divulge that she’d looked up Diana’s address weeks ago. Or worse, reveal that she’d actually waited at Diana’s door like some creep.

“Excellent.” Diana squeezes her hand before letting it go.

As cool air meets her skin, Barbara has the passing thought that she’s not very good at being Diana’s friend. She pines far too much for her own liking, and she really should stop.

Maybe things will be easier once she spends more time with Diana. The dinner should help with that (or make it much, much worse).

***

Diana opens the door at seven wearing the same wide-legged grey slacks and white oxford from work, the latter of which is rolled up past her elbows. The blazer from the day has been discarded, and Barbara isn’t sure which she prefers. Diana’s hair is pulled back into a loose twist that exposes her neck, and Barbara comes to the conclusion that the more skin she can see, the better. Worse.

Being around Diana is confusing.

“I, uh, wasn’t sure what to bring,” Barbara babbles as she holds up a bottle of white wine. She doesn’t know much about wine, but the woman at the store had told her it was good and she’d Diana drink white.

“You didn’t have to bring anything,” Diana chides as she kisses Barbara’s cheek and steps back to let her in.

Barbara nearly drops the bottle of wine from nerveless fingers. Diana’s hand braces over hers in time, and then she’s left wondering if Diana has always been this tactile. “Oh, well, you know. I read in a magazine that it’s good manners to bring something, and the lady at the store said wine is one of the more common options. I thought, well, Barbara you don’t really drink but what the hay.”

Diana smiles and gently tugs her inside, then closes the door. “It will go well with dinner, if you want to try it.”

“Yes, of course. I-I do. Want to try, that is.” She blinks hard and holds up the bottle. “The wine, I mean.”

Though Diana’s lips twitch and her eyebrows rise slightly, she doesn’t laugh. “Then please, allow me.” Barbara nearly loses the bottle of wine all over again. Diana’s eyes are dancing with amusement as she safely retrieves the wine and turns to lead the way further in. “You have perfect timing,” she says as they move past a sleek white living room filled with rows and rows of neatly filled bookcases and on into an equally sleek kitchen. “I just put the finishing touches on our chicken piccata. It’s simple, but I forgot to ask you what you’d like.”

Barbara clasps her hands together in a hard grip. Everything is so clean and neat, so different from her tiny, cluttered apartment. “Chicken piccata is fine. It smells really great in here, anyway. I’ve never had that, but it’s chicken so, what could go wrong?”

Diana flashes her a grin as she digs into a drawer, holding up a corkscrew before opening the bottle with efficient movements. Barbara is glad she knows what she’s doing, because Barbara hadn’t even thought of the cork.

The muscles that shift in Diana’s forearms are too fascinating, and Barbara forces herself to peer around the bright space.

Her mouth goes dry when her eyes land on the dining area; the small table is adorned with a white tablecloth and two place settings on opposite sides, a few tall candles lit between. Oh gosh, oh jeez, oh heck. Diana’s attempts to assure her of their friendship are only making Barbara think of other, far more impossible things.

“Are you hungry?” Diana asks as she holds out a glass of wine.

Barbara accepts it with both hands, just to be safe. She considers her twisting stomach and debates that against how wonderful the kitchen smells. “Not very much yet,” she confesses.

“The food will keep for a while. Why don’t we sit and chat for a bit?”

“Yeah, sure.” Barbara nods her head so forcefully her hair nearly dips into the wine. Diana doesn’t seem to notice and Barbara mentally fortifies herself for the short trek to the table. Diana rounds it to the furthest side, not sitting until Barbara begins to do the same.

They chat about work for a little while, bemoaning the politics involved with receiving important items from abroad.

“I have a confession,” Diana says after a pause in conversation.

Barbara hugs the half-finished glass of wine to her chest. “Yes?”

“I could have made it to those lunches.”

The words, though not unexpected, make Barbara’s heart feel like it’s fallen into her stomach. “Ah, I mean, I wondered.”

“It’s not what you think, Barbara. I,” Diana’s voice inexplicably breaks, “I was having some difficulties after the Members’ Gala. I didn’t like seeing you with Max and, after you rejected me, I didn’t realize how difficult it would be to see you again.”

Barbara scrunches her face up and shoots Diana a bewildered look. “What? Rejected you?”

Faint color rises in Diana’s cheeks as she glances away. “I apologize if I’ve made you uncomfortable once more. I forget that most women here do not see other women as potential romantic partners.”

“I… you… what?” Barbara fumbles with her wine glass, nearly spilling it down her shirt as she takes a drink from it.

Diana’s eyebrows are lowered when she once again meets Barbara’s eyes. “I expressed a romantic interest in you and you told me you only wanted to be friends. I promise I will do better, Barbara. I just needed some time.”

It feels like Barbara is living in another universe. She couldn’t have possibly heard what she’d thought she’d heard. Diana doesn’t have a romantic interest in her— _oh_. Barbara finds herself staring at the linen tablecloth, the careful place settings, and candles. She takes in Diana’s relaxed clothes and soft eyes, and finally, something clicks into place.

She jumps up from her chair and promptly spills wine down her top. She and Diana are a flurry of movement for a manic moment, Diana trying to find something to clean up the wine, and Barbara unable to remain still as Diana tries to give her a towel.

Barbara abruptly goes still, causing Diana’s body to collide straight into hers. Strong hands find her arms before she can lose her balance and Barbara can only gaze up into one of the most kind, beautiful faces she’s ever seen. With a start, she realizes her hands are braced against Diana’s clavicle. Her heart is pounding rapidly in her chest and, to her amazement, she can feel Diana’s doing the same.

“I didn’t believe it,” she finds herself saying as her attention wavers between Diana’s eyes and mouth. “How could someone like you ever be interested in someone like me? You’re so… everything and I’m just, well, _me_.”

“Yes, you are,” Diana says in a low voice as she tilts her head down.

Barbara’s eyelids flutter closed as their lips meet, and she has never felt anything so divine.

The kiss eventually ends, and Barbara’s mouth is slightly open as she tries to catch her breath. She stares at the full lips she still can’t believe have touched her own.

“I apologize if I misread you, you just—”

Barbara slides her hands up behind Diana’s neck and pulls her into another kiss. The wine staining her top is forgotten. Diana is cupping her cheek by the time this kiss (series of kisses) ends.

“May I court you?” Diana asks as her thumb brushes Barbara’s cheek.

The question, both archaic and formal, might seem odd coming from anyone but Diana. Diana, who speaks both Latin and Greek, loves old things and is slow to embrace new, who doesn’t own a TV but has shelves and shelves of books, sounds perfectly natural asking this.

“Yes,” Barbara answers, because there really is only one answer.

The corners of Diana’s eyes crinkle and her eyes seem to sparkle when she smiles. She takes a step back and takes Barbara’s hand in hers. “Then, please, join me for dinner.”

“Okay.” As Barbara sits she comes to the conclusion that, she might not be a magical princess, but she just might have found her Prince.


End file.
